Page 10 of Expensive

“I’m sorry. I’m not going to last,” I whisper.

“I know, baby boy. I can feel the hardness of your cock, how taut your body is.”

His hand switches from slow to fast, his mouth latching onto my neck and sucking at my skin. I dig my fingertips into the glass and try not to move, but I can’t help it. I lose control, bucking my hips forward as my body crests and I come all over the window. I sob because it’s so good. Better than good. My body trembles as I realize I need this. I can’t live without it anymore. What am I going to do?

“Hey, shh. Let’s go rest for a little bit, okay?” Timber says. With one graceful movement, he sweeps me into his arms and carries me to the bed. He sets me down on top of the comforter and lies next to me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“There’s nothing to apologize for here. From what I understand, it’s been a long time since you’ve been with anyone. And given your bond ache, it’s understandable that it would be emotional.”

He pulls me close. The warmth of his bare chest against mine just makes me cry harder. Is this what I could have had with a mate? I don’t want him to ever let me go. How could anyone think that money is worth more than this? I’d give anything to be held by someone every night. Absolutely anything.

I cling to Timber even though I know I shouldn’t. I’m being annoying. The last thing he wants is someone who’s annoying. I force myself to take deep breaths. If I’m going to do this with him, I need to pull myself together.

“Let’s go to the beach,” I say.

“Are you sure?” He searches my eyes with such compassion I almost start crying again.

The truth is that I’m never going to have a man hold me close every night. That’s just reality. But I could have a man hold me sometimes if this works out between Timber and me.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

6

Timber

It’s the little things that reveal how meticulously Andrew prepared for this trip. When we get to the beach, I discover there’s a beach towel for me in Andrew’s bag. And not just any beach towel. This one has a huge octopus on it. The sunscreen he shyly offers to spread on my back is labeled “Tattoo Care.” He even has three paperback novels in there—all by Louis L’Amour, an author I off-handedly mentioned liking in an interview three years ago.

At first, I don’t even remember mentioning it. But when I ask Andrew how he knew, he blushes and admits he’s seen every interview with me he could find on YouTube. That’s a lot of interviews. I’ve been in the business a long time.

“So, you want to read on the beach?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Uh, yeah. What else would we do?”

I hold back a smile. “Walk through the waves? Play volleyball with the net they have set up over there? Nap?”

He looks away from me. “Right. Sorry.”

Maybe it’s been so long since Andrew interacted with people that he’s forgotten how.

“How about this? Take a nice, long walk with me. Chat for a bit. And then we’ll come back and read.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. We don’t have to read.”

“You said you’d let me plan this trip, didn’t you? Said we could do whatever I wanted?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

I press a finger to his lips. “Say ‘yes, Daddy.’”

He gives me this sweet, shy smile that makes me want to take him back to the hotel and fuck him silly. “Yes, Daddy. We can do whatever you want.”

I stand up and offer him my hand. “That’s what I thought. So, you like books?”

“Um, yeah. You know how all dragons collect something? My hoard is books. Specifically pretty books. I’m particularly fond of old books in mint condition, but I like them all.”

That’s very endearing.

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